Of Weasleys and Wartime
by ladyoftheknightley
Summary: Ten stories about the Weasley family during the war. i: Molly and her brothers talk about sacrifices. ii: Percy, during the final battle. iii: Bill learns about Fleur, through Tonks. iv: Ron, Hermione and forgiveness, after Ron's return. v: Charlie misses Tonks at Christmastime.
1. i: Molly

_September 1980_

"We wouldn't ask you if you weren't one of the best witches we know – and Arthur, you're not half bad yourself," Fabian said. "I don't see why you both won't at least consider it..."

"For the last time, _no_!" his sister snapped. Arthur placed a comforting hand on her arm.

"It's not that we both don't fully support what you're doing," he said, "but we have the children to think of. What if something was to happen to them because of us being involved in the fighting? Or what if one or both of us were to be killed – what would happen to them then?"

"I understand where you're coming from Arthur, I really do," said Gideon earnestly. "I wouldn't dream of doing anything to put any of them in danger, none of us around this table would. But by virtue of having the surname that you do, you're endangering them. Oh, no offense meant, Arthur – Merlin only knows, being a Prewett is just as bad – but the fact remains that you're a Weasley, one of the worst blood traitor families there is. They're going to come after you for that alone..."

"And when they do, _if_ they do, we are prepared for that," Arthur said gravely. "We have...put some measures in place, should the worst happen. We've had to explain certain things to Bill and Charlie – children who aren't even old enough to go to Hogwarts, for Godric's sake! – in case someone comes and attacks us here. But for now, we're just doing what we can to minimise the risk of that happening."

"Which is completely understandable, but it still doesn't mean you're not going to be targeted! The only way you can be not targeted is by us winning this war as soon as we can and eliminating the threat of You Know Who and his followers and to do _that, _we need as many people fighting for us as we can get," Fabian said.

"We understand that," Arthur said, still keeping his hand on his wife's arm, "but you can't have us."

"Look, we get where you're coming from with the kids thing, we really do, but you wouldn't be the only parents in the Order! Both the Bones fellas have just had babies, and the Potters and the Longbottoms, too! If they can manage to—"

"I'm sorry," Molly said, cutting across her brother in a voice that was low and dangerous, "are you suggesting that they do not love their children as much as we love ours?"

"What?" asked Gideon, sounding confused. "No! That's ridiculous!"

"Then," she continued, still in the same tone, "are you suggesting that we are perhaps cowardly for placing our children's safety ahead of the wizarding world's as a whole?"

"Well...no, but don't you understand that the war will be over a lot quicker and _everyone _will be safe if—" Fabian began.

"No!" cried Molly, leaping to her feet. "_No_. If I have to perform the Killing Curse on someone – on ten people, fifty, five hundred! – to protect my children, I will do it. I will sacrifice myself for them, if I have to. But I will not do this if I do not absolutely have to."

"Molly," Arthur said gently. "Why don't you just—"

"No one's suggesting that—" said Fabian.

"It shouldn't come to—" Gideon said.

"_No_!" Molly shouted, cutting across all of them. "Not a day goes by when I am not prepared to kill or be killed for my children! Every single day, I make sure I have my wand on me, that I remember the best defensive curses, that I know exactly where all my children are at all times – and let me tell you, when you are nursing a baby that is no mean feat! Every single day, I wake up completely prepared to sacrifice myself for my babies. And I am _not_, no matter what you say, going to put them in any more danger. Do you understand me?" She glared at her two brothers, her chest heaving after her outburst.

The two of them glanced warily, first at her, then at Arthur. "She's absolutely right," he said, standing beside her steadfastly. "Our family comes first. And that is final."

Fabian looked as though he was going to say something, then changed his mind. "You were going to call us cowardly, weren't you?" Molly said, picking up on this. "You _were_. Don't deny it. Well, if this is what cowardly is, paint me yellow and call me a chicken because I see nothing cowardly about wondering if all of your children are going to survive this war every moment you're awake and most of the time you're asleep, as well."

"It's not that you're cowards, it's _not_," Gideon said. "It's just—"

"Mummy?" a little voice said, and a small red head poked itself around the door. "Mummy, Charlie's all covered in green spots and Bill says it's the pox but I don't know and—"

"Alright Percy, I'll go and have a look," she said soothingly. There was a wail from upstairs. "Oh, and the baby too! Oh, Merlin, what am I going to do?!"

"I'll sort Charlie, you go to Ronnie," Arthur said, dashing off up the stairs immediately.

"Right, right," she replied, grabbing a cloth and a glass of water. "Come along, Percy. You two will have to show yourselves out," she added to her brothers, not even bothering to fully look at them as the cries from upstairs grew louder and more insistent.

"Right you are," Fabian said, and Gideon also added something that she didn't quite catch, because she was already on the first landing.

It was the last time she saw them alive.

* * *

_September 2000_

"You wouldn't believe who I spoke to in Diagon Alley the other day," Molly said to the grey marble. She paused, as though to give an invisible someone to say, _'Nope, I've no idea, do tell_!'. "_Narcissa Malfoy_!" Another pause, and she could almost hear the lack of voices saying '_No, really_?!'. "She was alone, but she stopped me, which was surprising. I had no idea what she would want with me, but she just told me that she wasn't angry at me for doing what I did to Bellatrix – even though she was her sister! Andromeda I can understand forgiving me – she had been estranged from her, after all! – but _Narcissa_? But she says that she understands and that she forgives me, which helps, because...because I _killed_ her. But she was going to kill Ginny – Ginny! My baby girl. And you—you never got a chance to meet her. My baby...my baby girl..."

She put her head in her hands, a faint sob escaping. But even in her grief, she was not completely unaware of her surroundings – a small pop made her look up and whirl around, wand at the ready. "It's me, Mollywobbles," the new arrival said, and she breathed out in relief.

"How did you know?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"How did I know that you'd be at your brother's gravestones, on the anniversary of their deaths?" he asked drily. "Call it a husband's intuition." She gave a watery laugh as he stepped through the gravestones to come and stand with her. "Good evening," he said softly, nodding once to the headstones.

"C-can you imagine," she said, leaning into him, "how much trouble they'll be getting into, now that Fred's up there with them?"

"It doesn't bear thinking about," Arthur replied. "The hijinks they'll get up to! Well, I wouldn't—Molly! Come on now. Come on. It's okay, it's okay," he soothed her, rubbing her back gently as she sobbed into him.

"I couldn't save them," she gasped, "and I couldn't save him! I told them I would stand in—in front of fifty wands to save them, and—and I _couldn't_!"

"Molly," he hushed her gently. "You can't blame yourself for—"

"He was my baby! They were my brothers!" she cried.

"And if you'd somehow managed to switch places with Fred, who would have saved Ginny, hmm? I couldn't have, no matter how much I'd wanted to – I was on the other side of the room in the battle! If you'd gone out with your brothers that night, and sacrificed yourself for them, who would have raised our children? Who would have told Harry how to get onto the Platform all those years ago? Who knows what consequences that might have had for our family! You can't change time, Mollywobbles, no matter how much you want to."

"But I want to save them all," she whispered, stretching out a finger to trace the letters of Fred's name on the tombstone. "I want to save them _all_."

"They know," he replied. "They know you do. They don't blame you. And Fab and Gid will take care of Fred for us, until we can get there, too."

"But...I yelled at them. The last time we saw them, I yelled, and shouted, and we argued, and—"

"Oh, _Molly_," he said, stroking her hair gently. "Every year we say this! Just because you argued once doesn't mean that they don't love you! And they would have been so proud of you, doing what you did to save our children."

"But I couldn't save them all," she replied, and he bowed his head towards the gravestone in acknowledgement.

"And that, perhaps, is the biggest sacrifice we have to make as parents," he said. "We cannot always save them, no matter how much we want to."

"I hope he knows that," his wife said.

"Of course he does!" Arthur said firmly. "He has his uncles to tell him about all that."

"You're right," she said, smiling faintly. "I just...I worry about them."

"Me too," he said softly. "But they will be okay, you'll see." He slipped his hand into hers. "Now, come on. We should get back to dinner before we're missed."

Molly allowed herself to be guided away from the tombstones, towards the edge of the graveyard. She would, she thought, have given anything to have her brothers and son back, but at least they all had each other. "Do you want to side-along, or...?" Arthur asked.

She shook her head. "After you," she said, and, after a final look, her husband disappeared with a pop. "Look after him," she said, as she turned on her heel. It was probably just the pressure of apparition, but she could have sworn she heard a whisper of _we will_ on the breeze.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry I haven't written something more cheerful – I've just watched the last DW with the Ponds, and...well, SPOILERS as River would say. But it put me in the mood to write some angst, so here you go. This is for the men's tennis round one of the 2012 Hogwarts Games and the Sacrifice Slice of the Chinese Moon Festival Competition, both at HPFC. As usual, none of the characters herein are mine, no profit is being made from the writing of this and I would love a review. Cheers!


	2. ii: Percy

_Harry saw...Arthur and Percy flooring Thicknesse – DH page 589._

* * *

Fred was dead, and Harry was dead, and yet somehow the world had not ended and (how was it even possible?!) the tide was beginning to turn. Somehow, _somehow_, amidst all the devastation and the death, they seemed to be winning. Percy wasn't sure how it could be happening, and yet it _was_ happening.

Over in the far corner, he saw Ron and the Longbottom boy—Neville, was it?— dueling the werewolf, Fenrir Greyback. The two were putting up an admirable fight, but Greyback was good, equal to the both of them. Percy raced closer, sending a curse towards the werewolf; it hit his knee and he stumbled, allowing a jet of red light from Longbottom's wand to hit him full in the chest. He was going to go down now – Percy knew it. Either in death or just injured, Fenrir Greyback would soon be out of the battle, but he was a fierce fighter, and was still firing curses at Ron and his friend. He leapt forwards to join them in finishing him, but Ron shook his head.

"No—George!" he grunted between curses, sweat trickling down his face, and Percy understood. He whirled round; facing the direction his youngest brother had nodded, and saw George fighting another Death Eater, whose name he did not know.

George was putting up a good fight, too, but unlike Ron and Longbottom, he was not trying to duck and dive around the curses his opponent was sending, and it was surely only luck that had prevented him from being hit before now. He watched as the Death Eater sent a jet of purple light towards his brother, and reacted instinctively, his mouth forming the word "_Protego!_" before he'd even had time to think about doing it.

The shield erupted from the end of his wand, protecting his brother, and George looked around in surprise, nodding in acknowledgement when he saw Percy. "You have to fight him, George!" he cried, as he joined his brother in fighting the man. "You can't let him get you. Fred would never f-forgive you." _And he'd never forgive me if I let you sacrifice yourself_.

George said nothing, continuing to fire curses at the Death Eater, but not trying too hard to get out of the way of his spells. "George, _please_. Fred wouldn't want this..."

His brother looked like he was going to respond, but before he could, someone pushed the two of them out of the way, raising his own wand and shooting a curse at the Death Eater. "Yaxley!" the new arrival yelled, and Percy recognised Lee Jordan's, the twins'—no, George's—best friend. "You bastard, you killed my mother!" He was fighting to kill now, and so was the Death Eater—Yaxley. "No, no, _he's mine_!" Lee cried, as both Percy and George attempted to help him. "_Mine_!"

"I'll help him, but you go, Perce, help the others," George said. "Ginny and the girls, over there, look, help them, they need it. I'll fight, I'll help Lee and—and I'll do what you said. I'll stay safe, if you do."

"I will, I will, I promise," Percy said, catching sight of Ginny, Hermione and a blonde girl, all giving it their all against Bellatrix Lestrange. He had to help Ginny, keep her out of the way, but making his way over to her, in the midst of the melee was going to be tricky...

He saw Fleur, and the curse heading towards her out of the corner of his eye, and he knew that she hadn't seen it, as she furiously battled another Death Eater. The curse wasn't even meant for her - it could even, in the heat of the battle, have been fired by one of their own side. The Death Eater saw it, and made a comment about how much easier it would be to deal with her once she was immobilised. Percy understood the implications and felt sick, as he rushed towards her and knocked her sideways, out of harm's way.

She exclaimed something in French that he didn't understand, and he pointed to the ground she'd been standing on not a moment before, where there was a dark black scorch mark. She nodded, understanding, and, over the top of his head, disarmed the Death Eater.

"_Merci_," she said, getting to her feet and offering him a hand up. "You are my bruzzer-in-law, _non_?"

He nodded. "Yes, I'm Percy," he said. It was the strangest introduction of his life...

"Zhen I am very pleased to 'ave met you, Percy, because—NO!" she wheeled around, and Percy saw the masked Death Eater had picked up his wand again.

"_Stupefy_!" he yelled, but his was not the only voice to do so – Fleur's French accented spell had also hit him, and so had a third.

"Thank you, thank you," said Bill, whey-faced. He grabbed his brother in a one armed hug. "You just saved—I—Fleur!" He rushed over to her, where she had been binding up the out-cold Death Eater with ropes she'd conjured, and kissed her quickly, but firmly, on the lips. "Thank _God_. I need you to come with me, there's a girl been injured, bitten by Greyback, but he's not transformed—she'll be like me—but they need help Healing—and I thought you..." Percy did not hear the rest of their conversation as they rushed off, and he was left standing alone in an alcove, trying to catch his breath.

He needed to help, but he had to be careful whose fight he jumped into. Half the time, it seemed more dangerous to try to help, in case his spells hit an ally. Everyone was moving so fast that it was difficult to see exactly what was going on, but he thought (or was it just wishful thinking?) that the Death Eaters seemed to be losing much more than they were.

He'd just plotted a path across the hall to where his sister and three—or maybe four or five—others were battling Bellatrix Lestrange – when a flash of red hair to his left made him turn. His father was battling Pius Thicknesse, but he had been injured – blood was seeping through his shirt-sleeve and the wound was making him slower. Thicknesse was a powerful wizard, and Percy worried how long his father could last in his current state. He wanted to jump in and help, but he was in danger of injuring his father with a mistimed spell, and he couldn't tell him to move out of the way without alerting Thicknesse of his plan to attack him. If only there was some way of getting his father to step ever-so-slightly to the left, so Percy could target the Death Eater more easily...

"Dad, help!" he cried, and Arthur instinctively whirled around at the sound of his son's distress and panic. The movement gave Percy a clear shot at Thicknesse, and his spell hit him in the stomach. The burly man doubled over with a grunt, but soon straightened up.

"Well, if it isn't the traitorous Weasley," he sneered. "Never thought there'd be a Weasley worse'n your father, but it appears that your patheticness has excelled even his!"

"If – being – pathetic – makes – me – like – my – father," Percy grunted, punctuating every word with a curse, "then – I've – never – been – more – proud – to – be – pathetic!" His spells were weakening the man, but still he kept firing curses back at him, which he had to duck and dive his way out of.

"Doesn't change the fact you're part of the most disgusting blood-traitor family ever to walk this land," snarled Thicknesse, as a rather nasty curse of his scraped Percy's leg, causing him to double over in pain.

"I'd take that as a compliment, if I were you son," he heard his father say, and, after a second's glance between them, they both raised their wands at once and shouted "_Stupefy_!" Thicknesse was finally weakened enough to fall to the ground, and Percy bent double, catching his breath as his father conjured ropes around him. "You okay?" asked Arthur.

"Just my leg," Percy winced. "But I don't think it's broken, maybe just sprained...how's your arm?"

"Bleeding, but the cut's not too deep," his father responded.

"Show me," Percy said. Arthur pushed back his sleeve, revealing the wound. Percy muttered a quick incantation, and the wound sealed itself. "That's not perfect, but it'll stop the bleeding at least," he said.

"Thank you," Arthur said, with a nod.

"It's alright," replied Percy. "And Dad...I really am sorry."

"I think you've proved that enough times already today," his father said.

"I really do mean—GINNY!" he cried, as his sister dodged a killing curse from Bellatrix Lestrange's wand by inches. He started towards her, but his father grabbed him by the middle and held him back. "Dad—what?" he asked.

Arthur nodded towards his wife. With a cry of "Not my daughter, you bitch!", she'd rushed over to Bellatrix, pushing others out of harm's way as she fired curses at the laughing Death Eater.

"Your mother's got this," he said firmly.

"But I—" began Percy.

"If she needs help, we will be on hand to give it to her," Arthur said, cutting him off. "But your mother is a remarkable woman, and _more _than capable of taking on Lestrange." From the fight she was putting up, Percy could see that this was true, but he still felt helpless as he watched from the sidelines.

"We should go and help!" he said. "Even if she can manage on her own, it's good to have backup and—"

"Being part of a family means knowing when to step in and when to leave people to do things themselves – or figure things out for themselves," said Arthur. "You should know this."

Percy knew that his father was right. And he also knew that, this time, he wasn't going to argue with him.

* * *

_**A/N: **Written for the Men's Tennis in the 2012 Hogwarts Games. If you enjoyed it, please do leave me a review :) The quote at the top is taken directly from DH, the rest is purely from my imagination but of course all belongs to JKR!_


	3. iii: Bill

**A/N: **For round three of the **men's tennis **in the 2012 Hogwarts Games, and for the **100 Characters Competition **using prompt #7, understand. If you like this, please drop me a review!

**Disclaimer: **As always, none of this belongs to me

* * *

It was almost like a dream. One moment, he was with Kingsley and two others from the Order, concentrating on trying to break the Death Eaters' curses on the little cottage in the woods; the next moment, Remus was telling him that Fleur had been injured and that he needed to go to Tonks' mother's house immediately and here was the address and FleurFleurFleur...

He splinched two fingers off his left hand apparating to the Tonks' house, something he hadn't done since he was seventeen. Blood poured from the stumps of his fingers, and he felt himself grow faint just looking at it. His vision rushed inwards like a tunnel, and he had the briefest sensation of falling, before everything went black...

* * *

"...just going to keep talking at you until you show some signs of hearing me, which I think is what all marriages end up as, really. It's a shame, but ah well, we can't all be young forever, am I right? Of course I am, I'm always right – which is what I'm always telling Remus, but does he listen? Of course he doesn't! Just the other day—"

"Fleur!" Bill groaned, opening his eyes and trying to sit up.

"Oh no you don't!" said a familiar female voice, pushing him back down. "You just stay there a moment whilst you catch your breath."

"Fleur..." he murmured again, and the other person sighed.

"Sadly, blonde does not suit me, but if you really do insist..." Tonks scrunched up her face, and her hair became long and silvery-blonde.

"Tonks, this isn't the time for—"

"Shut up and sit down," she replied, as Bill once again tried to sit up. "I've just had to reattach two of your fingers – you've lost a bit of blood and you need to keep still and stop trying to get up or you'll pass out again. I know you're worried about Fleur, but she's in there with your Mum and mine – who's a mediwitch, if you recall – so she'll be fine."

"I want to see her!" Bill said. "I need to know she'll be okay."

"She won't be if you go barging in there and get under the feet of Mum and Molly – keep bloody still, or I'll jinx you!" said Tonks forcefully.

"What happened?" asked Bill, accepting defeat and lying still. "To Fleur, I mean?"

"Her group was attacked – I know, we thought that the main fight would be where you guys were tonight, but the Death Eaters were out in force in Wales as well, and she and two others were injured. She was hit by a curse that's knocked her out cold, but Mum reckons she'll be absolutely fine once they can bring her round. They're giving her a few Potions as a precautionary measure, but she's tough – she'll be fine," Tonks said, summoning two blankets from indoors and wrapping one around Bill and one around herself.

"Oh, thank _Merlin_," Bill breathed. "And what about the others? Who else was hurt?"

"Stoat and the twins' friend – Lee Jordan, you know? He should be fine – just a few broken bones, but Stoat's in worse condition and they're considering taking him to St. Mungo's..."

"Shit," Bill said. "It must be bad if they're going to risk that..."

"Pretty much," Tonks said – trying, and failing, to keep her tone light. "But hey – we knew tonight was going to be a big night for Death Eater action, and it could've been a lot worse. Last time we were expecting something on this scale, we had three deaths, if you remember..."

"Could've been a lot...my _wife's _in there!" Bill burst out angrily.

"I know, I know, but she's going to be okay!" Tonks said soothingly, alarmed by his anger. "She'll be fighting fit again in under a day, there's no need to worry!"

"She shouldn't be in there at all," Bill muttered.

"Sorry?" asked Tonks. "What do you mean, she shouldn't be there?"

"She shouldn't even be in this country, fighting this war," he said. "She doesn't belong here – she's only here because of _me_. I'm the one putting her in danger; if it wasn't for me—"

"Oh, rubbish," scoffed Tonks. "Sure, she's still here because she married you, but she came over to England three years ago because of Cedric Diggory, and what happened at the Tournament. She'd still be here whether or not she'd married you. And besides, if the worst does happen and we fall to You-Know-Who, how long do you think before he starts looking at the continent? France is the closest country to us – and do you really think she and her family would be safe, as part Veela? Of course they wouldn't – he hates half-breeds just as much as he hates muggleborns!"

Bill stared at her, surprised. Her speech was not unfamiliar – in contrast, he heard it several times a day from his wife's own lips. "She's got you, too, then?" he said, with a small snort.

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Fleur hasn't 'got me' with anything, you pillock," she said. "I understand exactly what she means, because it's what everyone told me. Don't marry Remus, they said. You'll get yourself tied up in all sorts of things you don't want, they said. But they forgot that I was already involved in the fight against Voldemort – it's well known that I'm in the Order. I wasn't putting myself in any more danger by marrying Remus..."

"Maybe, but that's because you're an Auror in your own right," Bill argued. "Like you say, everyone knew that you were a well respected fighter of Dark magic before you even _met_ Remus. But Fleur...she's only still in this country because she married into one of the most notoriously muggle-friendly families in the country. If she hadn't become a Weasley, she wouldn't be in any danger, and—"

"But you don't listen to her!" she cried, cutting across him. "Yes, she's here because she married you, there's no denying that. Yes, marrying into the biggest blood traitor family in the country put her in danger. But she'd be here fighting whether or not she was married to you, because this is what she chose to do after seeing the return of You-Know-Who at the Tournament. You can't take credit for everything, Bill Weasley..." she finished, giving him a wry grin.

"You two talk way too much," he said, giving her a small smile in return. "Can I get up now?"

"We're women – of course we gossip," she said. "And as long as you do it slowly and carefully, then yes."

He slowly moved himself upright, Tonks keeping a watchful eye on him as he did so. When it became apparent that he was going to be okay, she relaxed a little more. "Yeah, your missus and I have plenty to talk about. Our situations are more similar than you'd think..."

Bill pondered this. "I guess so. I've never thought about it that way, really," he said. "But I guess you do understand what it must be like for her – and vice versa."

"Yes indeed," replied Tonks. "Though there are some differences between us still..."

"Like that fact that she's a much hotter blonde, but you pull off the pink haired look much better?" he asked.

Tonks laughed. "Well, yes, but no. Like the fact that Remus and I...we're going to have a baby. I'm pregnant."

"Oh, congratulations!" Bill exclaimed, smiling genuinely for the first time all evening. "That's fantastic news! I'm so happy for you both."

"Thank you," she replied. "We're really—"

"Bill? Dora! You two can come inside now, Fleur's awake. She's asking for you." They both turned to see Andromeda standing in the doorway of the Tonks' house, calling them in. Bill got to his feet eagerly, put turned back to offer Tonks a hand up.

"Thanks," she said.

"No, thank _you,_" he replied. "Thanks for helping me to...you know..."

"Get your head out of your own arse?" she grinned.

"I was going for 'understand'. But that works, too," he said, and, laughing, the two of them headed inside.


	4. iv: Ron

**A/N: **For Fire the Canon's **Ron/Hermione** competition using the prompts bridge, doubt and lantern (very loosely); and the **100 Characters Competition **using prompt #84 – forgive. This is set some time after Ron returns (obviously), but before the trio are captured. I don't own anything you recognise.

* * *

He watches her, hunched over outside the tent, shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and debates for around six seconds whether or not he should go to her. She hates him – he knows that, of course – but she looks so sad that he feels he must do _something_ to help her. He makes sure to make plenty of noise when leaving the tent – he doesn't want to startle her, and if she wants to pretend she wasn't crying, it will give her time to wipe her face clear of tears – but she doesn't change her position at all.

He hesitates a moment more, before dropping down next to her. He doubts she'll hex him, and even if she does, it's not like he doesn't deserve it. "Hermione?" he asks, unsure how to start the conversation – or, indeed, what he's going to say to her if she does respond.

She turns to him, tears still running down her face. "I want my mum," she whispers hoarsely. "I want my mummy and daddy back." Without even thinking about it, he takes her in his arms and holds her close. She sobs into his chest and he strokes her hair, murmuring nonsense to let her know that he's still here, he's not leaving (not this time). He would do anything to stop her feeling like this, but he doesn't know what would work. Hermione's the strong one, the girl who doesn't let her emotions rule her. She rarely cries, and he's _never_ seen her sob so heart-wrenchingly and he doesn't know what to do to make it better and that _kills him_.

"Sorry," she says, after a few moments more of crying. She pulls back and wipes her face of tears. "I'm sorry. You don't need me to...sorry."

"Come on," he says, standing up and reaching out a hand. He doesn't want her to feel like she has to apologise for breaking down – not after everything she's done for them, and she's probably had it toughest out of both him and Harry – but he doesn't know how to say that to her, and so he just reaches behind him and pulls her to her feet.

"I don't think we should leave the tent," she says, biting her lip doubtfully.

"It's okay," he says. "We can just go over here. We'll still be able to see the tent. Harry will be fine, and you could do with a change of scene. It's nice here."

She doesn't look entirely convinced, but she follows him anyway. They walk to a spot around five hundred yards away from the tent, to a little wooden bridge that crosses a rushing stream. "It's nice here," he says again, because he can't say what he really wants to which is 'I love you' and 'I'm sorry' and 'Please forgive me'.

"It is," she says, her voice creaky and cracking from all her crying. "You could play Poohsticks under the bridge..."

"You could play what?" he asks, confused.

"Never mind," she says, shaking her head quickly. _Harry would understand what that means_, he thinks, then tries to dismiss that thought. "Do you miss them?" she asks, suddenly. "Your family, I mean."

"Every second of every day," he replies. "It's natural, though..."

"Mmm," she says.

"It is, though," he continues earnestly. "And...at least you know that your parents...that they're safe."

"This is true," she sighs. "I know that. It's a comfort. But...I _miss_ them. I wish I could see them..." He's never heard such longing in her voice, and he wants to reach out and touch her, hold her, but he doesn't dare. _Some Gryffindor you are_, he thinks. "You know what that's like, though," she adds, turning towards him.

"I do," he agrees. He summons all of his reserves of courage and reaches out a hand towards her. She reaches out to him in the same moment, and they both stand there, hands awkwardly stretched, not touching. There's two inches and half a lifetime of awkwardness between them, and he can't for the life of him work out how to fix it.

"We should get back to the tent. To Harry..." she says, and he nods.

"We should," he replies, but neither of them moves an inch. Harry's safe – he's tucked up asleep in the tent, encased in the protective enchantments and within their line of sight – and as much as he loves his best friend, right now, she takes priority.

He sees the lights reflected in her eyes as he stares into them, and he turns quickly, hand already on his wand. Their moment has been broken and she's all business, her own wand out and ready at his reaction. "What is it? What can you see?" she hisses, scanning the clearing for movement.

"Lights, over there," he murmurs, pointing to her left. Strange glowing lights are drifting across the sky. They don't look Dark, but these days it's best not to take risks, and he's never seen anything like them before now. Just as she locates them, green and red and purple sparks fly up into the air. "Do you think it's our side, or theirs?" he asks.

"Neither," she replies. "It's fireworks!"

"Fireworks?" he asks, taken aback. "How do you know?"

"It's Chinese New Year tonight," she says. "We're on the outskirts of Leicester – they must be having some kind of celebration in the city – fireworks, and those blobby light things you can see are Chinese Lanterns. You light them and let them go, and they float along...sorry, I'm not doing a very good job of explaining things..."

"No, no, it's fine," he says. He has no clue what she's on about, but whatever it is has made her smile, and he's so pleased to see her looking happy again, she could be rambling on about the existence of Nargles for all he'd care.

"Mum and Dad and I always used to go to the celebrations when I was little. We'd go and see the dragons, and make paper lanterns...it was lovely," she says.

"Well then...happy Chinese New Year, Hermione Granger," he says. "Is that what you say?"

"It is indeed what you say," she nods. "And a Happy New Year to you too, Ron Weasley. Make it a good one."

"Oh, I shall," he says. She smiles again, and rests her head on his shoulder as they watch the fireworks together.

Maybe this is what forgiveness feels like, he thinks. He hopes so. He reaches for her hand, and she squeezes his gently in return.

Definitely forgiveness.


	5. v: Charlie

**A/N: **For the final round of the **Men's Tennis** in the 2012 Hogwarts Games; the **Holiday Spirit Christmas Boot Camp** challenge using prompt #37, snowflakes and the **100 Characters Competition **using prompt #99, velvet. The rights to Harry Potter are still not mine.

* * *

Charlie Weasley would not be heading home for Christmas this year. This had been decided in the aftermath of Bill and Fleur's wedding – the less attention the Weasley family drew to themselves, the safer they would be – and trying to organise Portkeys in and out of the country, with the Ministry overrun by Voldemort's supporters would not be conducive to this. His parents insisted that he stayed in Romania – he would be safer there, his mother said, and if anything was to happen to them, they could at least be assured that there would be someone still alive to look after Ron and Ginny.

His father told him that he would be doing more good recruiting foreign aid to help their fight – as he was now the only member of the Order with connections outside of the UK – but that he would call him back the minute it looked like there might be a fight in which he could help. Coming back for Christmas would put them all in more danger, and, even worse, might prevent him from returning in a real emergency.

And so he made a token protest – it wouldn't do, for his mother's sake, to seem too keen to stay away over the festive period. But he – and his parents – knew that it was the most sensible option, at least for the time being. He had hoped that, by the time December rolled around, things would be different – the war might not be over, perhaps, but maybe the Ministry could have fallen from Voldemort's grip, or the world may have become that bit safer. But as the first snowflakes started to fall, right at the end of November, and winter set in, it became clear to Charlie that he would not be going home this Christmastime.

And there was a part of him – a part of him that he hated, but a part that existed nonetheless – that was _grateful_ for that fact.

Because Christmas was Tonks, his beautiful Dora. Christmas was the two of them getting trapped under the mistletoe in their fifth year and something finally clicking into place; Christmas was visiting her in the holidays when her parents were away for the night and losing his virginity; Christmas was the Ball that had been held at Hogwarts in his sixth year and seeing her in _that_ gorgeous red velvet dress. Christmas was only half-jokingly proposing to her, saying that they should just run away together once they finished school and get married, and her saying yes only semi-sarcastically.

Christmas was the realisation that, after four months apart whilst he began his job in Romania and she her Auror training in London, long-distance was not for them, and finally breaking up. (New Years was drinking a bottle of firewhiskey and having a hangover that lasted almost a week.) Christmas was the next year, when she came to see him anyway, and they promised each other that it wouldn't mean anything if they had sex and they were both single so what was the harm? (Only a broken-heart and a reopening of an old wound...)

Christmas was coming back to join the Order, after a few years of half-hearted letters and missed reunions in the Leaky, expecting to find her waiting for him and instead finding her – _his _Dora – in the arms of another man. And Christmas this year would be looking at her glowing face, her round belly, as she carried the child of this same man.

The man had been so good to his family, done so much for his siblings and made Dora so happy that he couldn't hate him. But he sort of did anyway, because Dora was _his_ love, and the man had taken her away from him. (And oh, how he missed her.)

The other dragon handlers knew of his situation, and were sympathetic to him. They knew why he couldn't return, offered to help in anyway they could, and listened and tried their best to comfort his worry and anxiety for his family. Charlie knew that, if he shut himself away on Christmas Day, they would think his sadness was mere loneliness and stress over his family's current situation, and they would leave him be.

But he knew the real reason – he would shut himself away because, to him, Christmas was Dora, and he didn't want it to be any other way. He almost felt guilty, as though he did not deserve his friends' sympathy, but he couldn't quite manage it.

Nothing about Dora made him feel guilty – except for the fact that he hadn't told her how much she'd meant to him. If he'd told her he loved her enough, maybe she'd still be with him.

Maybe.

* * *

**A/N: **Wow, festive! Sorry for all the angst, I'm feeling really unwell tonight but writing about someone else's pain has made me feel slightly better. (A review might help with that, too :) )


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